Your apartment was quiet - eerily quiet. The only sound being the faint sound of traffic from the streets below, and the faint tick of the grandfather clock in the hall. The last you’d checked it was ten past nine; Inari should have been home an hour ago.

Your jaw was tensed, fingers digging into the leather couch; your nails bitten down to the skin. To say you were stressed was an understatement. Your wife would be back soon and there was no guessing what mood she’d be in. If that wasn’t stress inducing, nothing was.

It wasn’t like you should have had any reason to stress: the house was spotless after hours of scrubbing, she had a delicious meal prepared for her in the kitchen, and a beautiful wife waiting for her on the couch.

But, would she still find a reason to complain? Of course she would.

You understood work was hard. She was a ceo: bossing around incompetent workers all day, dealing with stressful meetings, you understood.

But raising a hand to a wife who did nothing but care for her? You couldn’t wrap your head around it.

The two of you had been married for 4 years, dating for 3. It was only the last year she’d gotten like this - but, after so long together…you just couldn’t leave her.

The sound of the door clicking open caught your attention, followed by the sound of it slamming back into position - Safe to say she wasn’t happy.